


I Feel Fine

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-23
Updated: 2010-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luna's been saying something odder than usual, and Ron tries to get to the bottom of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Feel Fine

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This story was inspired by the Beatles song of the same title. Thanks to [](http://www.livejournal.com/users/linnet_melody/profile)[**linnet_melody**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/linnet_melody/) for the lovely beta! See, dear? Dandelions!

"Oh, Weasley..."

Ron's blood pressure shot up just _hearing_ that drawling voice, and he stopped short in the middle of the corridor. Draco Malfoy had taken his usual obnoxious taunting to new heights (or depths, as it were) this school year, once he worked out that he couldn't directly attack Harry or his friends without incurring the wrath of the entire D.A. Apparently he felt that needling his enemies into attacking him and thus earning themselves a detention was revenge enough. Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchly had already gotten a month with Filch for trying to duel him during dinner, Terry Boot had been scrubbing toilets for over a week, and Ginny was precariously close to losing her hard-won Quidditch position after partially turning Goyle into a llama for the better part of an afternoon.

And apparently now it was Ron's turn again. He waved Hermione off towards the Charms corridor and turned to face the Slytherin, bracing himself for whatever nasty words came his way. "What d'you want?" he asked, even as he promised himself that he wouldn't lose his temper, no matter what Malfoy said, not even if he brought up

"How are things with Loony Lovegood these days, your majesty?" Malfoy said with a smirk.

Ron blushed like a Muggle traffic signal. "Fine, not that it's any of your business," he said shortly. He'd only been dating Luna for a week and a halfwell, as far as he knew. Nothing was quite that simple when it came to Luna, unfortunately; for all he knew, they'd technically been a couple since he first responded to her half-mad flirtations at the beginning of the term. She'd just never actually said anything about her own feelings until last Hogsmeade weekend, which was as good a point to mark as any, and gave Ron the sort of firm frame of reference he so often needed when talking to her.

Not that Luna was mad or anything; that would just be too easy.

Malfoy nodded at Ron's response, still smirking evilly. "Only 'fine,' Weasel? That's not what I've been hearing...."

Ron wrapped both hands around the frayed strap of his bag to avoid going for his wand. "And what's that, exactly?"

Malfoy smiled and rocked back on his heels for a moment, apparently trying to time his prepared shot just right. "It seems you've been _very_ generous to the little crackpot lately. Or don't you know what she's telling people?"

Ron felt Hermione tugging on his sleeve and shrugged her off; it was one thing if Malfoy was going to stand here and insult him, but quite another if he was going to mouth off about Luna. Ron couldn't just stand by and let him get away with that; while the rational part of his mind insisted that this was exactly what Malfoy was counting on, the rest of it was saying with barely-restrained anger, "No, actually, I don't."

Malfoy feigned surprise, and turned to Crabbe. "Did you hear that? The poor bastard doesn't even know what his own girlfriend's been up to."

"Come out and say it or leave, Malfoy, I haven't got all day."

"Oh, there's not much to say," the Slytherin said gleefully. "She's just so overjoyed by all your little love-tokens, she can't seem to shut up about them."

Hermione dug her nails into Ron's wrist, but wisely didn't try to say anything. "I don't know what you're talking about," he snarled.

Malfoy gave another of those obnoxious little pauses, then smiled again. "Oh, really? You mean you've forgotten about the gifts you gave your own girlfriend?"

That brought Ron's train of thought to a screeching halt, which wasn't an odd occurrence when it came to Luna. "What? _Gifts?"_

"Oh, yes," Malfoy said gleefully, "and expensive ones, according to her. Golden jewelry, diamonds, sapphires, silk robes, a whole _garden _of exotic flowers, andif I recall correctlya 'crystal-throated Abyssinian Mimblewimble'. Don't you remember, King Weasel?"

The logical parts of Ron's mind worked furiously, trying to sort this out, which unfortunately left the talking parts unattended. "You're lying," he blurted.

Malfoy cackled. _"I _am only reporting what Lovegood's telling the rest of the castle, Weasley. If anyone's lying, it's she."

Hermione, with her supernatural interpersonal skills, stepped in just in time to prevent the unsupervised bits of Ron's brain from doing any more damage. "We're going to be late," she said loudly, and tugged on Ron's arm as hard as she could.

Malfoy, however, carried on. "What's the matter, Weasley?" he called as Hermione half-dragged Ron away. "Too shy to own up to your own extravagent spending? Oh, wait, you don't have any money _to_ spendunless you sold your mother first, and I hear the price of lard is down this year"

Ron spun around and reached for his wand at the same moment that a girl's voice said lightly, "Honestly, Malfoy, is that the best you can come up with?" He turned, and discovered Susan Bones leading a pack of her housemates up the cross-corridor, along with Dean and Seamus. He had never been more grateful to see so many Hufflepuffs in one place in his life. "Insulting peoples' mothers hasn't been clever since first year, you know," Susan continued with a flick of her braid.

Malfoy, apparently, wasn't confident enough even to taunt when he was so badly outnumbered; he sneered at Susan and slunk off with his minions, though he couldn't seem to resist mumbling "Give my regards to Loony, Weasel," as he left.

Ron took deep breaths while Hermione exhaled and tugged on his sleeve. "I really mean it, Ron, we're going to be late, Harry's probably wondering if we got pitched down a trick staircase..."

"Is she saying that?" Ron asked the others, ignoring Hermione. "Is Luna really saying that...that I've been buying her all this, this stuff?"

Most of them found the ceiling abruptly and intensely interesting; Seamus tried to hide behind a tapestry. Susan cleared her throat. "Erm...you know, we really are going to be late to class..."

"Come _on,"_ Hermione said, but a touch more sympathetically.

Ron let himself be lead to class in a bit of a stupor, and didn't put terribly much effort into note taking. Why on earth would Luna be telling people...those _things?_ It was worse than embarrassingeveryone knew full well he couldn't afford so much as a chocolate bar, so they _had _to be thinking that she was mad, or that he was tricking her, and maybe having a laugh about what a rotten boyfriend he was.... He knew Luna didn't care much what other people thought of herit was endearing, and a little inspiring, how easily she could brush off criticism about everything from her jewelry to her family historybut Ron _did_ care, about his reputation and hers. He wanted nothing more than to protect her from the stupid, short-sighted people who seemed to get such a kick out of teasing and tormenting her, but when she went around talking about imaginary presents and crystal-fluted mumblegumbles...why did Luna _do_ this sort of thing?

It wasn't that she was madRon had been working that out the hard way. Luna _seemed_ mad, but if you actually sat down and listened to her explain some of her ideas, they often made a frightening amount of sense. Luna looked at things differently, saw things other people didn't, held no preconceptions about what was probable or even possible; she was just as scarily smart as Hermione, just in rather less predictable directions. Ron already knew that trying to work out Luna's motivation from a distance would be utterly futile, because the only person who could follow Luna's train of thought was Luna herself.

He looked up from the lazy circles he'd drawn on his parchment and frowned at the back of Dean's head. He was going to have to talk to her about this, wasn't he? Not that he didn't like talking to her, but he'd never been particularly good at Important Conversations...and frankly, he was almost afraid of what Luna would have to say.

-x-X-x-X-x-

 

"PsstLuna!"

Luna trailed behind a group of her fellow Ravenclaws as they crossed a courtyard, humming softly and twiddling a little boquet of dandelions tied with a grubby piece of string. She looked up from the flagstones, which she'd been skipping in an unpredictable pattern, and smiled widely at him. "Hello, Ronald!" she said cheerfully. "Are you going to lunch?"

He glanced around, but Luna's classmates had all left her behind, and the courtyard was otherwise empty. "In a minute. Er, can we talk?"

"Of course we can, silly, we are." Luna examined her dandelions and tucked one behind her ear.

Ron blinked for a minute, then shook his head. "I mean, can we go somewhere private and talk?"

Luna blinked. "Oh, of course. Do you think we will?"

Ron gave up and took her by the wrist; she tucked her dandelions into her pocket and followed him to the nearest empty classroom. She climbed up on the teacher's desk and folded her legs under her, watching him intently but with no sign of emotion on her face. "Shall you talk first or shall I?"

"Er..."

Ron tried to find a diplomatic way to approach the question, though he suspected it would probably be lost on her. When he didn't speak right away, Luna charged right ahead. "I just had the most dreadful History of Magic class, because Professor Binns was talking about the assassination of Fitzgerald Honk, and he didn't even mention the involvement of the Rosicrucians, let alone the ministry cover-up. Do you think that's fair?"

"Um...no," Ron guessed.

"Neither do I. I told him that Daddy had run a four-part series on it last fall and he said that he was only concerned with _'serious_ history.' But Daddy's informant was very serious, even if he was wearing woman's robes. I don't think we should hold that sort of thing against people."

Ron took a deep breath. "Luna, not that I don't care about Fitzwhoey Bonk"

"But you should!" she insisted with earnest eyes. "If he had survived, the French might've landed in Ireland in 1798, and who _knows_ what might've happened then! Why, we might all be speaking Hungarian right now"

_"Luna,"_ Ron said firmly, before this conversation went any further afield. "I didn't want to talk about the French or Hungaria or whatever."

"Oh," she said, without much evident disappointment. "What did you want to talk about?"

He took a deep breath. "About...you...I...look, have you been saying...er, _things_ about me?"

She blinked. "Of course."

"About...my buying you...er, things?"

Her head cocked to the side, reminding him suddenly and inexplicably of Crookshanks observing a large bug. "Of course I have. Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, something is wrong." He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, something that was becoming alarmingly habitual; at this rate, he'd be as bald as his father before he finished school. "Luna, you know I couldn't possibly afford any of those things you've been telling people about."

"Well, of course." She hopped down off the desk and patted his hand. "I don't mind."

"...what?"

"It's the thought that counts."

Ron shook his head. "Luna, back up a sec."

She smiled sweetly and patted his hand again, as if he were a small and confused child. "Well, if you could afford presents like that, you'd get them for me, wouldn't you?"

"...well, sure." Well, maybe not those exact thingshe wasn't stupid enough to say that to her face, thoughbut he would love to be able to do the kinds of nice things for her that took money, even something as simple as paying for her butterbeer in Hogsmeade.

Luna nodded conclusively. "So if you _would_ buy them if you _could,_ that's just as good as if you _could_ and _did, _because in the end they both mean the same thing."

It took him several minutes to work through this, while she smiled widely at him. Finally, he said, "So what you're saying is, it's enough that I _want_ to...to buy you nice things...even if I actually don't?"

"Exactly!" She hopped up on her toes and kissed his cheek.

Ron shook his head. "But why've you been telling peopleI mean, they all think you've got a bunch of imaginary jewelry and things."

"They can think what they like," she said serenely.

"But _why?"_

Luna paused for a while, then lowered her eyes and said softly, "Austin McHandless bought Arianna Downer a silver necklace at Hogsmeade. Kevin Entwhistle gave Elisa Morgan a bottle of perfume. Melpomene Price got a dozen roses from a secret admirer, who everyone knows is really Colin Creevey."

Some small parts of Ron's brain fired, producing the first glimmers of comprehension and a sick feeling in his stomach. "What's that got to do with us, though?" he asked warily.

"Well, that's how other boys tell girl they love them. Or make them think they love them."

"I see," Ron croaked. Was this Luna's way of angling for a present? Or was he making her feel neglected? No, wait, she'd just said it was the thought...

She hopped up on the desk again and kicked her heels, so they made a hollow sound when they bounced off the wood. "So if I was going to make them believe how much we love each other, I had to tell them in a way they would understand."

Ron blinked.

"I couldn't just _say_ it, or they'd never believe me."

Ron goggled.

"And of course, I couldn't say that I was giving presents to you, because then you would've been embarrassed."

Ron's train of thought caught up with his face. "Waitsoyou were really saying?"

Luna smiled and caught him by the front of the robes, pulling him into a loose embrace; with her on the desk, he could look her straight in the eye. "I love you, Ronald Weasley," she said softly. "I love you diamond rings and golden bracelets and crystal-throated Abyssinian Mimblewimbles."

Ron couldn't help but grin, and when she grinned back he just had to kiss her; he sank his fingers into her pale hair and pressed himself close to her heart. She squeaked and pushed him back, but only enough to retrieve her dandelions from her robes. and set them aside. Then she kissed him and parted her legs so he could get as close as possible. Luna was like that, boldand passionate, and forward, and everything else that scandalized his mother in girls. It was one the many things Ron loved about her.

"Do you want to have sex now?" Luna whispered into his ear.

So maybe it wasn't just his mother that Luna scandalized sometimes. "Ernot right now," he mumbled. "Everyone'll be waiting at lunch."

"All right." She pulled back and smoothed his hair over. "Should I not have said anything about the presents?"

Ron thought about it and shrugged. "Forget about it. You can say whatever you like." He paused. "What _is_ an Abyssinian Mumbojumbo, anyway?"

"Mimblewimble," she said gently as they walked towards the Great Hall, dandelions in hand. "It's a most extraordinary bird, you see, because for one thing it hatches from diamonds that have been buried in volcanic ash for a thousand years, and for another its song has all sorts of magical properties. It's only been photographed _once_ but it's ever so lovely..."

-x-X-x-X-x-

 

After lunch, Luna walked with Ron, Hermione and Harry as far as Professor McGonagall's classroom, insisting it was on her way. They made it as far as the entrance hall before Malfoy found them again.

"Well, well, if it isn't the two lovebirds."

"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

Malfoy stepped back a bitno one wanted to push Harry too far these daysbut didn't leave off. "I wasn't talking to you, Potter," he said coldy. "I was just wondering if Weasley had made anymore 'purchases.'"

Luna smiled. "Oh, yes. He bought me a lovely pair of earrings."

Malfoy sneered. "Oh, _really?"_

Ron felt his face go starkly red, and opened his mouth to...well, say something, hopefully redirecting the situation from Malfoy insulting Luna to Ron removing Malfoy's teeth. But then he glanced at Luna, and saw her looking at him with that serene smile, and remembered what she was really saying...

_So maybe reputations are overrated,_ he thought, and shrugged.

"Yep," he told Malfoy. "Big ones. Got diamonds as big as, er, radishes on 'em."

Malfoy blinked. So did Harry and Hermione. "You're joking."

"Nope," Ron said breezily. "And I've been looking at some fancy perfumes, too, something really exotic. And, er, a pony."

"A _pony?"_ Malfoy said incredulously.

"Maybe two," Ron said, and smiled.

Malfoy stared at him, then looked to Luna, then snorted. "I knew you were deranged, Lovegood, but I didn't realize it was contagious."

"Well, then, you're learned something new today, haven't you?" she said brightly.

As they watched Malfoy leave insearch of more entertaining people to harass, Hermione cleared her throat. "Er...Ron? Are you all right?"

He looked at Luna; she plucked the dandelion from behind her ear and tucked it into his front pocket with a little smile. "Yeah, Hermione," he said, grinning, "I'm perfectly fine."


End file.
